Promised Hopes
by Clogette
Summary: Missing scenes following Shelagh Turner, beginning with Series 3, Episode 4
1. Chapter 1

When the knock came at the door, Sister Julienne was surprised to see Mrs Turner stood, somewhat reluctantly, in the doorway, clutching a small brown bag.

Sister Julienne beamed looked up from her desk and beamed. "My dear!"

Shelagh smiled on hearing Sister Julienne's voice. The safety and comfort of Nonnatus House, and indeed this very office, still held such a large part of her heart. "Sister Monica Joan let me in," she began making her way towards Sister Julienne's desk. "I wanted to give you something, for the charity box."

Sister Julienne immediately sensed the tension in the air. Shelagh held the brown bag as if it were a precious metal to be clung on to. And although her words said she wished to give it away, her eyes were distant from the request – in a different place that Sister Julienne did not recognise.

With a small smile, Sister Julienne reached over the desk and held out a hand towards the brown bag. "That's very kind of you Shelagh."

She had almost added 'you could have dropped it in with the rest down the hall' but didn't. It felt wrong, like this brown bag was worth more than being placed with all the other donations left by so many kind poplar residents. Besides, it was rare that one item arrived. Usually it was a large bag of old baby clothes as the result of a large clearout. Seldom one item, and rarely dropped off in person.

Shelagh hesitated, she held the bag out everso slightly away from her, but her eyes did not come off it. She froze. So much of her love and hopes had been poured into it, that suddenly it seemed impossible to give it away, to hand it over.

Sister Julienne withdrew her hands, knowing that this wasn't likely to be a social call by Shelagh. It was not a chit chat about the weather, but something far more serious was going on. She made her way around the desk to join Shelagh on the other side of it.

Shelagh turned, swallowing down her emotion. "It is a nightdress," she said, barely in a whisper, pain searing into her words. She could feel the lump in her throat growing. She had been so strong this morning, with Patrick. Honest, but strong. But now, having to share with Sister Julienne why she was here, it suddenly seemed too much, and the tears inside her threatened themselves once more.

"May I?" Sister Julienne said quietly, offering to take the bag to have a look.

Shelagh gave one nod of the head and relinquished her grip on the bag. But as soon as she let go and laid it in the hands of Sister Julienne, as soon as the precious garment perfumed in her hopes and dreams left her possession, the emotion inside her overwhelmed her, and she felt her shoulders shake with the weight of all that she was carrying.

Sister Julienne placed the bag, still unopened, onto the table beside them and opened her arms for Shelagh to move into them – which she did, in one quick motion resting her head on the nuns shoulder and allowing the familiar feel of the habit to envelope her and her Sister to comfort her. She allowed herself to feel, for a moment, the full force of her grief and her body shook with sorrow. Sister Julienne closed her eyes and prayed briefly for God's comfort to be with Shelagh in this moment. After a short while, she felt Shelagh's body began to relax, the tears subside and the two stood in their embrace, Sister Julienne gently swaying them both as a mother does to soothe their baby. The silence around them offering its comfort with just the sound of Shelagh's breath calming and returning to normal.

"I'm so sorry," Shelagh whispered into the Sister's habit.

"None of that," Sister Julienne said, realising that her voice too was thick with emotion. She pulled back from Shelagh slightly and rested her hands on Shelagh's shoulders. "You can always come here, to Nonnatus House...to me... It is as much your home as it ever has been."

Shelagh allowed herself a small smile at the reminder, and felt grateful for the love that was always so tangible in this place. However, she felt embarrassed and awkward at her outburst. She was usually so much more restrained, more strong, than that.

As if she had read her mind, Sister Julienne said, "We all need somewhere that we can just come, and feel what we need to, without judgement or expectation."

Shelagh nodded, agreeing. Despite the outburst she didn't know where to begin, how to explain the loss she was feeling for something that she never had, or was never promised.

Seeing the Shelagh was lost in her own thoughts, Sister Julienne guided Shelagh to sit down and picked up the brown bag placing it on her lap.

"You take a moment," she said, smiling gently. "I will make some tea, and shall search for cake that has not fallen victim to Monica Joan, yet."

"Thank you," Shelagh said, as Sister Julienne left the room. Shelagh unwrapped the brown bag and held the nightdress up to her face, smelling it and taking in everything about it. She needed to say goodbye to the dream of a child of her own. Not that she didn't love Timothy as if he were, but goodbye to carrying a child, birthing a child and seeing it in the nightdress that she had carefully stitched over the weeks previous. As Patrick had said, that road was now at an end and she knew she needed to let go.


	2. Chapter 2

"No such luck with the cake I'm afraid," Sister Julienne said, manoeuvring herself around the doorway and into the room, carrying tea and biscuits. "But I did manage to find some biscuits, and I am sure they will more than sustain us!"

Shelagh smiled – she missed the cake dramas of Nonnatus House. It was one of the quirks of the place that from the outside seemed trivial, but was a great source of humour, disappointment and discussion when you lived there.

Sister Julienne placed the tray of tea and biscuits down on the table, careful to notice that the brown bag now lay in the middle of the table.

She signalled to Shelagh, "May I?" she asked. She knew that it was likely that the moment she took it into her possession it was unlikely to return to its creator. Shelagh looked at the bag, tilted her head slightly and bit her lip, thoughtfully considering what this might now mean. Handing over of the nightdress was the end. She nodded her head, closing her eyes and silently agreeing for Sister Julienne to take it into her care. Sister Julienne moved it to one side, in order to lay out the tea, placing a cup infront of Shelagh. Pouring a cup she hovered over the sugar.

"I believe you might be in need of a sugar, just for today..?"

Passing the office door, Sister Monica Joan wandered slowly over the threshold, shaking her head from side to side, speaking with true passion on the important matter in hand. _"_ _How can you call yourself a true tea-lover if you destroy the flavour of your tea by putting sugar in it? It would be equally reasonable to put pepper or salt. Tea is meant to be bitter, just as beer is meant to be bitter. If you sweeten it, you are no longer tasting the tea, you are merely tasting the sugar; you could make a very similar drink by dissolving sugar in plain hot water,"_ she quoted.

Shelagh and Sister Julienne shared a knowing glance. "I think it'll be just fine without the sugar, Sister."

"Quite right too!" retorted Sister Monica Joan who made her way back out of the room. Sister Julienne and Shelagh allowed themselves a small laugh.

"I think I was just told off!" Sister Julienne remarked.

"I think you may have been," Shelagh replied.

Sitting opposite her friend, Sister Julienne took hold of the brown paper bag. She was gentle with it, turning it over in her hands and opening slowly and with caution – something that Shelagh noticed was grateful for. She removed the nightdress slowly, unfolding it as if revealing something so very precious with in. Then she held it up to admire its delicacy.

"Shelagh, this is beautiful," Sister Julienne said.

Shelagh blushed. "It's been a hobby each evening – keeping me busy."

Sister Julienne nodded. "You are quite sure you don't want to hold onto it."

Shelagh was feeling stronger now, her mind had been made up. "Oh no, Sister. It won't be needed and it would good to know that it would go to someone who will look after it and treasure it."

Sister Julienne nodded, delicately folding it back into place and laying it down on the table. Shelagh kept her eyes focused on the nightdress. She could recall every stitch gone into it. Every bit of thread that signalled, she thought, a stitch closer to when she would be mother to her own child. And as the nightdress was completed and the news didn't come, Shelagh knew that something had to be wrong.

"I had a false alarm," she said into the silent room around her. Sister Julienne looked up at Shelagh, noticing that her gaze was fixed on that garment.

"I didn't know..." Sister Julienne said gently.

"Women have false alarms all the time, don't they? They think they might be pregnant just because their body acts a little out of the ordinary. It's all just part of being a woman."

Sister Julienne reached across the table, taking hold of Shelagh's arm that was resting there. "Yes, you are right, many women have false alarms," she agreed. "But it doesn't mean it doesn't still hurt, Shelagh, to have your hopes taken out from underneath you."

Shelagh nodded slightly, withdrawing from Sister Julienne's touch and wringing her hands in her lap. She didn't want to lose her resolve again, and the gentleness of Sister Julienne's voice and touch was likely to be the catalyst for it – however well intentions it was. She looked up and made eye contact with the Sister. "It feels cruel. To have it there, a speck of light and hope in the distance of the night – extinguished. But then the news that the sun might never rise, that I might always be in this darkness when it comes to Motherhood."

Sister Julienne nodded compassionately. She wanted to tell her that she still had a family – Dr Turner and Timothy were her family, as were all her Sister's at Nonnatus. But, and it was a rare occasion indeed, the words did not come. Sister Julienne was unable to offer words of comfort to the situation. She, herself, as a teenager, had assumed she would one day be a mother. It would just happen. But, then, as God made her path clear and her vocation obvious to her she was able to let those thoughts go and any longing she may have once had subsided to her calling. And she felt that, in actual fact, she had felt a mother in many ways during her vocation. It comforted her to know that, although Shelagh was hurting so desperately now, it was likely that in time Shelagh would recognise the same thing in her life – that she already was an adored mother to Timothy and that, no doubt, there would be other people enter into her life that would benefit from her caring and compassionate nature.

In the meanwhile, Sister Julienne would pray for her. That she would find contentedness in her current situation, that Shelagh's road would be made clear and most of all, she would pray for a miracle. That if it was God's will, Shelagh would become the mother she so longed to be.

" _When Dr Turner and I married I was so sure of what my life would be - just as sure as I was when I took my vows. But now. I don't feel sure of anything. I can't picture the future at all,"_ Shelagh revealed. It was a relief to unburden herself of this. Was it so wrong to have put so much hope into a child, to extend the family with Patrick? And why did it matter so much to her, she had spent years in her life as a nun resigned to never being a mother.

" _In the past year your life has changed unrecognisably,"_ Sister Julienne offered, trying to pull together all of Shelagh's concerns and hurt. She glanced down at the nightdress to her right hand and felt her heart crumble just slightly for her friend's pain. _"_ _It's understandable you looked for certainties."_

" _Perhaps I was greedy,"_ Shelagh said decidedly, almost angry with herself _. "I was given so much and I wanted more."_

" _Don't even think of your childlessness as a punishment,"_ Sister Julienne reprimanded, looking straight into Shelagh's eyes. _"_ _I will not allow it."_

" _Thank you."_


End file.
